


Where Witches And Lumberjacks Dwell

by thebureauisclosed (insibbegerest)



Series: Fortuna Major [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Crack, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, working at Abstergo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3877354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insibbegerest/pseuds/thebureauisclosed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaun sasses Abstergo employees from behind his lovely coffee stand. Until he doesn't. Also, Desmond is being a five-year-old, but is anyone even surprised by that? (Hint - Shaun definitely isn't.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Witches And Lumberjacks Dwell

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't uploaded anything new lately, I know, but worry not - I'm still alive and kicking, but... EXAMS. They're eating up all my precious free time and I can't write even though I'd love to. Goodbye fanfiction, hello Physics! Ugh.  
> I should start updating my stories again in several weeks though and I'm reeaally looking forward to it already. Hehe.  
> Anyway! This story takes place about a month or two after the events of Fortuna Major. Consider it to be a little apology for my absence. Enjoy! :)

An older gentleman approached me and greeted me with an exceptionally hoarse voice. There was something odd about him, I couldn’t put my finger on it though. He looked nothing like the other Abstergo employees. The workers, especially those in leading positions, often put more emphasis on their looks than on their jobs. This fellow, however, looked more like a lumberjack, what with that long beard and messy hair.

‘‘Mornin‘,’‘ he rasped, ‘‘a moccacino, please.’‘

I frowned at him (my usual way of saying hello to strangers) and started preparing the coffee for him. How I hate this bloody job, you have no idea. I should be doing historical research or hacking computers, but nope! According to William, I am more useful putting sugar in people’s bloody mugs. Seriously, William, get stuffed.

‘‘Here it is,’‘ I said, slamming the coffee onto the desk and almost spilling it. ‘‘Two dollars. If you don’t like the taste, that’s your problem, not mine. I won’t be giving you your money back, so don’t even try to ask. I don’t get paid enough to bother with complaints. Have yourself a lovely day.’‘

The man handed me my two dollars, all while staring at me intently. Okay, that was creepy. When I looked up to frown at him again, he grinned widely.

...wait.

What. The. Fuck.

‘‘You can’t be serious,’‘ I gaped at him.

‘‘I’m tired of lazing around and doing nothing,’‘ he said, this time in his normal voice. ‘‘I want to help you guys.’‘

‘‘How nice of you, I appreciate the effort, but how about you help us by not getting killed? Have you considered that? Now kindly sod off, it’snot safe here for you.’‘

Desmond gave me a hard look. Oh god, this man could be so ridiculous, you wouldn’t believe what he’s capable of. What the hell was he thinking?! The whole Abstergo knows his face, he’s their number one wanted! Wearing an ugly wig and a fake beard to sneak into an enemy building? Who does that? Sounds like a scene from one of those horrid Hollywood spy comedies.

‘‘It’s not safe for you here, either,’‘ Desmond said.

Desmond was right; if he was number one wanted, that would make me, Rebecca and William number two. But still, it was Desmond and his memories they were after. They wouldn’t stop before anything, if need be, they’d kill him without blinking an eye. Wouldn’t that be ironic, losing Desmond to bloody Abstergo after he had survived the apocalypse and kicked Juno’s glowing arse (technically, Fortuna did, but let’s not go into details)?

‘‘Desmond, Abstergo isn’t exactly fond of me, no use denying it, but it’s you they want to lock up, stuff in an Animus and turn into their lab rat.’‘

‘‘You’re exaggerating again.’‘

‘‘Oh? Have you forgotten your first encounter with Vidic? Your memory must be shorter than a circus midget.’‘

‘‘Sorry, what have you just said? I can’t remember,’‘ Desmond frowned with feigned confusion.

‘‘Haha, very funny. What I was trying to say is, you’re underestimating our enemies, again.’‘

‘‘You are underestimating me. Again.’‘

‘‘Does that surprise you?’‘ I reached out and lightly pulled his fake beard. ‘‘This is one of the stupidest ideas you’ve ever come up with, which is something. So, drink your coffee and sod off.’‘

Desmond sighed and leaned closer to kiss me, but I recoiled. ‘‘Hey, I don’t want the whole Abstergo to think I date greasy fifty-something lumberjacks. No kissing until you’re you again.’‘

‘‘God, Shaun, you’re so shallow,’‘ Desmond rolled his eyes, but turned around and headed to the exit. I couldn’t help but smirk.

 

xxx

 

‘‘One latte and a muffin, please.’‘

‘‘We haven’t  got any muffins.’‘

‘‘How about cheesecakes?’‘

‘‘We don’t do cheesecakes, either; we’re a coffeeshop. We do coffee,’‘ I explained patiently.

‘‘Cookies?’‘

I sighed, ‘‘Madam, are you not listening? I can make you coffee, coffee or... some more coffee. I can also add some sugar or milk, if that’s what your heart desires,  but that’s about it.’‘

‘‘Ice cream? You must have some ice cream.’‘

Why didn’t I get the job of a courier like Rebecca? I swear to god, sooner or later I’m going to murder a customer and I doubt Abstergo would be overjoyed about me leaving dead bodies in their lobby. They prefer to have all their killings planned.

The woman pouted her dark red lips at me. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with so much lipstick on. Well, it wasn’t just the lipstick, her whole face looked as colourful as an impressionist painting. She must have dipped her face in black eyeshadow and purple blush. Also, her voice sounded way too high and whiny...

I groaned. ‘‘Desmond, you... I’ve no words.’‘

‘‘Yet you’re speaking.’‘

‘‘This is even worse than your little lumberjack costume. I am in awe.’‘

‘‘Don’t you think the dress fits me?’‘

‘‘If you were a woman, you’d be the ugliest woman I’ve ever seen. Where did you dig up that dress, by the way? Did it belong to your grandmother? And you haven’t the faintest how to properly do your make-up.’‘

Desmond raised his eyebrow (thank god it wasn’t plucked), ‘‘So now you’re a fashion advisor?’‘

‘‘I am an everything-advisor, you should be aware of that by now. The next time you want to become a lady, please, ask Rebecca for help. Or preferably, don’t do it at all.’‘

‘‘I hate you.’‘

‘‘I know. Now fuck off.’‘

‘‘That’s not how you should talk to a lady, you know.’‘

I rolled my eyes, ‘‘Now fuck off, _darling._ Better?’‘

‘‘Not really.’‘

I frowned at Desmond and kept frowning until he sighed and left the lobby.

Ladies and gentlemen and others, this is the man who saved the whole world, would you believe it? I hardly do myself, and I was there. Oh god.

 

xxx

 

Straw Hat was moving towards me, slowly but patiently. I’m calling this person Straw Hat (middle name With An Extraordinarily Wide Brim) because that was the only part of them I could see. They were sitting on a wheelchair and panting heavily while trying to get to me. Was this their first time using that thing? It certainly seemed so.

I sighed, ‘‘Do you need some help there, sir or madam or whatever?’‘

‘‘Nah, I’m fine,’‘ the bloke wheezed before going into a rather nasty coughing fit. I made a face – not that Straw Hat could see that, what with that awesome brim. I could smell the germs in the air. Great, I really hope I get infected and develop some sort of a fatal illness.

Just imagine – Shaun Hastings dies. It’s an unimaginable tragedy. Hundreds of assassins from the entire world gather at his funeral to mourn this painful loss. Some of them cry, unable to suppress their grief. Desmond and Rebecca _definitely_ cry, blaming themselves for not treating me better when I had been alive. Ha ha.

The wheelchair bloke finally finished his journey full of hardships. ‘‘Can I get some coffee?’‘

‘‘Obviously, that’s why I’m standing here. What coffee would you... wait.’‘ I frowned. That voice sounded familiar. And who would voluntarily wear a hat like that?

I could only think of one person.

‘‘Desmond! Get out of here.’‘

‘‘Are you my mother?’‘ Desmond said.

‘‘No, I’m just the only responsible person in this bloody building! What are you doing here again, for Christ’s sake?!’‘

‘‘Sitting on a wheelchair.’‘

‘‘Oh really,’‘ I snorted. ‘‘Sir is being a smartarse now, huh? That isn’t going to save you from my righteous wrath. Now shoo, this place is crowded with templars! If they see you...’‘

‘‘The only thing they’ll notice is my hat,’‘ Desmond pointed out. ‘‘I’m being careful! Just... let me help, I hate being hidden and locked up, what kind of life is that?’‘

I shrugged, ‘‘Well, it’s still a _life,_ you know. Having a shitty life is still better than being dead – which could easily happen if you keep  showing up here, understood? And by the way... I’m not sure I want to know the answer to that question, but where did you get that wheelchair?’‘

‘‘You don’t want to know,’‘ he said mysteriously, turning around and wheelchairing off (I know that’s not an actual verb, thank you, Oxford dictionary) without even saying goodbye.

What a git. Why do I even like him, could someone remind me, please?

 

xxx

 

‘‘Yo, wazzup!’‘

I closed my eyes and then slowly opened them again, as if hoping I had been dreaming and none of this had been real.

Nope. Nothing changed. I was still slaving for Abstergo Industries in a bloody coffee stand and in front of me was Desmond dressed like a top-class chav. That hoodie would be too big for an elephant, for God’s sake. ‘‘Now English, please.’‘

‘‘Gemme some coffee, geezer, wouldya.’‘

‘‘I’m not an expert on how teenagers talk these days, but I’m fairly sure this isn’t it, Desmond. Yes I know, you are bored and want to help us and blah blah... Well boohoo, you’re just causing us more trouble by doing stuff like this! Go to the headquarters. Now.’‘

‘‘Or what?’‘

‘‘Or I’m breaking up with you.’‘

‘‘Shaun.’‘

‘‘What?’‘

‘‘You threaten me with that like ten times a day.’‘

‘‘I mean it this time.’‘

‘‘Sure,’‘ Desmond smirked, then his expression grew serious again. ‘‘No but really. This is the fourth time I‘ve used a disguise to get here and no one has ever exposed me. I could work here, too, I could...’‘

I removed the godawful baseball hat from Desmond’s head and threw it in a waste bin without taking my eyes off him. ‘‘You could sod off.’‘

He sticked out his tongue at me – what is he, ten? – and walked off.

 

xxx

 

‘‘Oh no. Are you shitting me?’‘

‘‘Sorry?’‘

‘‘Haven’t I told you to stop doing this? Haven’t I told you like a million times? Of course I have, but listening to me for once would be beneath you, wouldn’t it.’‘

‘‘I don’t...’‘

‘‘Where did you steal that wig? And that dress? Did you take a trip to the nineteenth century or what? And your make-up is even worse than the last time. Have you ever seen a woman? Because it seems to me you haven’t. And adjust your falsies before they fall out.’‘

‘‘How...’‘

‘‘And stop arching your back like that or you’ll hurt yourself. Not all old hags walk like that, you could have just bought another straw hat if you wanted to hide your face, you know. Bowing your head down isn’t nearly as effective.’‘

That did it. Desmond left and I was victorious, again. What a lousy idea though, did he think I wouldn’t recognise him when he was doing the same thing for the fifth time? I’m not that stupid.

 

xxx

 

‘‘And don’t forget to scrub the fucking toilet on the second floor again!’‘ My boss yelled, shoving a mop in my hand and throwing a wet, stinking rag at me. How the hell do templars work with these people? William is a saint compared to this old red-faced slimeball.

‘‘Yeah, sure,’‘ I grimaced. ‘‘Anything else, _sir_?’‘

‘‘Shut your fucking mouth or you’re fired.’‘

‘‘Yeah. Noted.’‘

I was pretending to be actually cleaning stuff as long as that pillock was around. When he finally grew tired of creeping at me and walked back to his office to get some more undeserved rest, I flipped him off behind his back and sat down on the stairs. Ugh. If he was expecting me to do such a degrading work, he was sorely mistaken.

And how exactly did I go from selling coffee to cleaning toilets? I’ll share my sob story with you, prepare your handkerchieves. Remember when Desmond visited me the last time, dressed as an old ugly witch? Well, plot twist! It wasn’t Desmond, it turned out to be boss‘ beloved mummy. Yeah, I know, awesome. As soon as I had stopped insulting her, she ran off to grass on me to her son. He gave me a sweet talking-to and demoted me to a cleaning lady position.

But that’s not even the worst part.

‘‘Hey, stop slacking off!’‘

I looked up to frown at the person who said it. He was grinning at me while standing behind my old beautiful coffee stand.

‘‘Shut up, Desmond, and make me some coffee.’‘

‘‘Maybe if you ask me nicely.’‘

‘‘I am asking you nicely, make me some bloody coffee.’‘

‘‘Sure, Mr. Toilet-cleaner. Give me a minute.’‘

After Rebecca had found out about Desmond’s trips to Abstergo, it nearly made her cry with laughter. Desmond is risking his life without a bloody reason, haha, how funny, I’m rolling on the floor. William didn’t exactly approve of his son’s shenanigans,  but he and Rebecca agreed that since he’s a responsible adult (no comment), he should be able to make decisions for himself and they let him work at Abstergo. Undercover, of course. He was wearing stupid big sunglasses, a fluffy black wig and a fake goatee. Every fashion designer would weep bitter tears if they saw him.

Desmond brought me my coffee, I grumbled something faintly resembling a ‚thank you‘ and took a sip. Desmond kept grinning at me. I almost flung that dirty rag at him, but then decided against it. I know my luck, the boss would definitely appear right behind the corner, he’d see me and demote me again. Although, I can’t imagine what could be worse than polishing toilet seats.

‘‘By the way, Shaun, I love your gloves, they compliment your eyes.’‘

I glanced at my canary yellow rubber gloves and then back at him.

Right. You know what’s worse than polishing toilet seats? Polishing toilet seats while Desmond is making a fool out of you. I flung the rag at his annoying happy face, unable to stop myself.

And when I caught a glimpse of the boss returning from his office to check up on me, I ran up the stairs to the sound of that bloody templar idiot yelling and Desmond laughing.


End file.
